Jesu, Joy of a Man's Desiring
by dieFiend
Summary: RE-UPLOADED. " I just want to stop. Feeling. Whatever it is I'm fucking feeling." Dante/Nero. Yaoi, and lots of bad language.


Could it work, if I just went for it?

No. He's too fast I think. He wouldn't let me get too close, I'm sure he'd push me away. The thought's still tempting though, and I test like you would tongue a cut in your mouth; feeling the shape and tasting it.

Dante's playing pool with Trish, but he's losing. He's not wearing his coat tonight, just a tight black t-shirt and some lounge pants, and his eyes are creeping down Trish's back; she's bent over the pool table, lining up a shot, and her leather corset is riding up but I don't care. It's Dante's gaze I'm interested in. He's tasting her with his eyes, and I feel like breaking something. My arm tightens. The red skin on my Devil Bringer reacts grows hot, like it does when I'm angry or frustrated, and it tightens my hand into a fist. I can see the blue light flare and turn white. Trish sees it too as she straightens up.

"Hey, hun. Why don't you come down here?" She asks.

I stand up from the top of the stairs and make my way down. Trish chalks the tip of her cue and Dante leans over to take his shot, then looks up at me.

"Hey kid. Wanna game?"

I smile and nod. It's all I can do.

We come back from a mission and Dante's bleeding everywhere. My arm is around his waist, and his arm is around my neck, and feeling his heavy body so close to mine is both nerve-wracking and exhilarating. His weight on me is something warm and comfortable, but so incredibly unfamiliar I almost don't know what to do. My stomach feels funny. I help him over to the couch.

He plops down on it and hisses when he pulls off his coat and shirt. I see the long gash across his muscled back where the Blitz nicked him.

"You're getting slow in your old age, old man." My stomach is rolling.

Dante snorts and hands me some bandages from his pocket. I take it from his hand, and his fingers brush against mine. I feel like I'm breathing thick air.

"I wouldn't be in this position if I didn't having to keep my eye on your clumsy ass, kid."

"Either that or you need a cane, grandpa." It's the best I can come up with. I unroll the white gauze and stare at the other man's bare back. His neck looks like the most succulent, delicious thing in the world and all I want to do is suck and lick it. My eyes slide to his sides, where the muscles over his ribs quiver and flex, and I think about running my hand over them, over his back. The dip in his spine looks particularly inviting.

"Did you fall asleep, kid?"

I shake my head no even though he can't see me and I get to work. My hands are sweating just a bit, and my heart speeds. He's sitting sideways on the couch, back to me, and I haunch over him awkwardly, bringing the tail of the gauze from one hand to the other to pull it tight across his chest. My cheek is practically pressed against his, and suddenly I'm having a heart attack. Really. I can't hear him, or my own breathing because the pounding in my ears is too loud. I inhale and I hope to God I was subtle enough, but I keep doing it; smelling him, tasting his scent on my tongue. I have to lean in, again and again to wrap the bandage around his thick chest and broad back, and each time I come close enough to his neck and face that I know that I can easily slip my tongue between my lips and taste his skin. I don't of course. He'd probably whack me a good one.

I can hear him talking and I come back to reality and say "What?"

"You're doing a shitty job. I want to know why."

I look down and realize he's right. I'm not wrapping the bandage tight enough, and it's starting to slip. "Distracted. Thinking about something else. Sorry."

It gets quiet again, and this time I try to forget that he's a big piece of Sexy. I wrap him up properly, because he's wounded and needs to be tended to, so I finish my job as well as I can and stand up, clapping my hand on his shoulder. The fake smile I have slides onto my face; it's become second nature, I don't even have to think about it anymore.

"You're all done, geezer."

Before I can remove my hand (which has gotten way too comfy,) he places his own on mine. I just about drop dead.

His hand _slides_ up mine, and right about now I'm having a stroke. Or several. I feel the heat from his skin and then he grips my wrist; nothing painful, but I know he's not about to move it.

"Nero."

"…what?" Yes, yes, that's it, forget that your heart is trying to claw its way out through your throat. I put on my cocky teenager front and hope to Christ it works.

"…you ok?"

Ok? Am I ok? No, I'm not. I'm worried.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

And suddenly he's right there, standing in front of me, and his hand is on _my_ shoulder now, and he's looking right at me, right into my eyes, and I'm feeling so nervous. Heat crawls into my face and I wonder that it might be easier if I just K.O him right here and fuck off back to Fortuna, where I can be normal, and cool, and forget that I'm in fucking love with Dante.

"Yeah I'm sure…why the hell would I say I'm fine if I'm not?" Cocky front saves my ass, and I can't fucking believe I said it as well as I did. I deserve a fucking Oscar. My face is still burning.

We're looking right at each other and I realize he's not buying it. At all. Fuck. I don't think that I'm surprised though; I'm not exactly subtle. His face is serious and calm, but it feels like his eyes might be burning a hole through me. I decided I don't want to knock him out; he's beautiful. I feel his hand lift away from my shoulder, and then it's in my hair, ruffling it. He smiles.

"Good. Good to hear it. Thanks for fixing me up."

He picks up his coat and shirt from the floor, and walks past me. I smell his scent and my mouth starts watering.

"Goodnight." His feet on the stairs.

I don't say a thing. I can't.

It's New Years Eve, and they're all drunk. I'm drunk. Trish and Lady got me drunk. The jukebox is going, it's massacring this popular song because it's broken. That's the least of my worries.

Dante is dancing on the pool table with no shirt on. There's pizza everywhere, and several of his friends are waving money at him; they all want a lap dance. Now he's dropping it like it's hot, and I want to jump on the table and pull him away. I can't though. Dante's straight because even now, one of those strippers from that shitty bar he loves so damn much is climbing up, and he's helping her, wrapping this thick arms around her waist and pulling her onto the table, his face buried in her neck. I'm about to snap the bitch in half.

I take another sip of my beer, then I realize I'm glaring. This is exactly why everyone is going to figure everything out; I'm not tactful, or sneaky. I'm not subtle, and because of it, people are getting suspicious, I'm certain. I turn away from the table and start over to the desk-turned-bar, bottle held to my mouth, my neck tipped all the way back and when I start sucking foam, I slam the bottle right in front of Lady who's mixing some drinks. She wavers in my vision a bit and her disembodied hand lifts from the table to steady me. She's laughing. I look at my bottle of Keiths. I love this shit, but that might be wrong. Maybe I don't like Keiths at all, because now I'm demanding she give me a whiskey on the rocks. I want something strong, I wanna knock myself the fuck out, I want to forget all about Dante behind me, laughing, snuggling with that woman, I just want to stop. Feeling. Whatever it is I'm fucking feeling.

Lady's saying something to me.

"Wha?"

"Are you ok?"

I feel like I'm spinning, but it doesn't throw me off the question. Why do people keep asking me that? Does it look like something's wrong? Is there a big fucking sign on my forehead?

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Suddenly I'm not so fine. Fuck. Why'd I let these maniacs feed me this much booze? My throat is tightening up and I start getting really hot; I feel like I'm going to start fucking crying, and I'm going to blow everything, and Lady and Trish are going to hear it all, and Dante's going to find out, and this is all bullocks and…

Trish is beside me. Her hand is on my face and she's running a thumb under my eyes, and it dawns on me that in my infinite fucking…fuck, I'm crying.

"Nero…what's…"

And I'm yanked away by an arm around my neck. I hear something, some counting, but it's far away, like it's down a long long hallway. Dante's face is right in my face, and he's screaming something at me.

"Happy New Year!"

I'm frozen because his lips are on mine. Holy Jesus. They're wet and warm, and…Oh God, Dante's kissing me. Some kind of hell-fire has lit so suddenly in my stomach, and my eyes slide closed when I feel his tongue across my lower lip. I swear I can hear angels singing. I feel so goddamn warm. The good kind of warm.

It's over far too soon, and everyone is yelling and cat-calling, and I know it was only a joke but Dante is warm and solid beside me and he's yelling and so am I. Play along, play along, smile, smile, don't let them know. I lick my lips, and I taste him. My gut is twisting; this shit is so unfair.

Dante shakes me and bit, yelling something at me, and I just say 'yeah' and I turn around and head upstairs, swaying from the drinks. I hear him behind me, boasting the crowd like he's the type to do. My face feels hot again, and now I'm really crying; it's coming down in hot thick streams and I can't even think about holding it back anymore. I'm making this whining sound in the back of my throat and I feel like such a pussy, but there's a white hot knife in my heart that keeps twisting and twisting, and it hurts so much I can't stand it.

I've somehow made it into my room, and I'm fumbling with the door, trying to lock the goddamn thing but I can't. Someone's on the other side, and they're trying to get in. Over my goddamn dead body.

"Nero?"

"Go away."

"Like hell! What's the matter with you?"

It's Lady. Holy shit.

"Nero. Please. Open the door."

And Trish. I look around the room wildly. The window. Maybe I can escape.

"Open it now, or we're going to shoot it down."

Fuck my life.

It's March. Everything is melting, and I'm a little ways from downtown, watching the river flood. It's windy and colder than usual, so the skin on my cheeks sting and little puffs of white clouds leave my mouth every time I breathe out. The sky looks higher than it should and I'm dropping some loose change into the water from this big steel bridge, waiting for Dante. We're supposed to meet here. It's Trish's birthday tomorrow, and he thought it a good idea to go shopping for her. Together.

"Hey kiddo. Ready to go?"

I turn around. I didn't even hear him come up to me, but here he is. He's wearing these dark, loose jeans, and a gray zip-up hoodie that fits him beautifully, even if it looks a little thin. He's smiling and the skin around his eyes is crinkling in this adorable way and even though it reminds me of how old he is, I can't stop that warm feeling that starts in my stomach when I look at him.

"Always ready old man. You sure you're gonna be warm enough in that? Don't want you catching a chill."

He gives me a rough shove, and I laugh, stumbling and dancing away from him. He's smiling and takes a few quick steps to catch me, to rough me up a little more, but he can't get his hands on me. I won't let him.

It's me and Dante tonight. Just us. Lady and Trish have been hanging around a lot more often ever since I told them I loved Dante; they're like my wingmen. I appreciate it a lot, because it's easier to keep my cool when we're all together. They make it hard to think of him, when I know I can't have him. We're all boisterous and rowdy together, but when we're not, when I'm out on missions on my own, or in the shower, or in bed, it's a lot easier to just make shit up. It's irritating, because I have a big imagination and I'm loud. Stuffing towels or balled up t-shirts into your mouth gets old quick.

He's ordered my favourite pizza and brought out a 12-pack of Keiths.

"What's the occasion?"

He laughs, and ruffles my hair. God, I love it when he does that.

"You don't know? C'mon kid, you're killin' me."

What the hell is he talking about? He's still standing there, being delicious, and I'm thoroughly confused.

"Your one year anniversary being at Devil May Cry. Duh."

Is he serious? That means I've loved him for two years now. I remember promising myself, back in Fortuna, that if I still loved that man in red after a year I'd go to him. And I did. And now here we are; a year later. Maybe I'll do it tonight. Maybe I'll finally get the balls to kiss him. A real one, with tongue, with my hands tangled in his hair and holding his neck. I don't think so.

We settle down with a movie. Transformers. I sit down, and he sits suspiciously close to me. I stiffen; did the girls tell him anything? What is he doing? He reaches over for the pizza, which I had put in front of me. Oh.

We start the movie, and to my complete dismay, he turns off the lights. Now, I can stare freely at his body, which is clad in only a tight black t-shirt and some pj pants, and he won't have any idea I'm drooling over him. Goddamnit.

"I like that car…what car is that?"

"Dunno."

"Wait…look at the back…where's the model?"

"It's friggin Bumblebee, dude, he's way too cool to have a model."

Dante smiles and smacks my knee. I shiver. "They had to use a car that already existed kid, come on."

"...it looks pretty damn old, old man, so maybe you should be the one telling me what it is."

He puts me in a headlock and we wrestle on the couch. He's laughing, I'm laughing, but I'm worried. I've wrestled with him before, in front of the girls, but without them I'm feeling all too tempted to do something I'll probably regret. My face is pressed into his stomach and my arms are wrapped around his waist. His skin is hot under my cheek and I wonder how accidental it'll look if my tongue finds its way out of my mouth to taste him. We're both jerking each other around and we fall off the couch. He lands on his back hard, and my face is still pressed into his bare stomach because his shirt had ridden up, and on my chest I can feel his hipbone and the heat and slight bulge of his cock through his pants. HOLY FUCK. I let out a breath and shoot up to my feet.

"That's a good look for you, geezer." I'm referring to him on his back, and he knows it. He throws one of the empty Keith bottles at my head and I dodge and make my way into the bathroom to fake a piss. My blood is all but boiling, and it takes me more than a few minutes to calm myself down. I lick my lips, but that doesn't help my situation; they taste like salt, because the corner of my mouth had been pressed against Dante's stomach. Wooo, there I go again.

I finally stop feeling crazy, so I come back out and smack Dante's head; he grumbles and starts the movie up again and hands me a piece of pizza and a fresh beer. He opens his own bottle and clanks it against mine and looks at me and says "Happy one year, Nero. Thanks for being around." He has this huge, sincere smile on his face and he brings a hand to my head and runs his long fingers through my hair.

I fall for him all over again.

I wanna go for it. I almost do, but he turns away, and we finish the movie after a few arguments and punches. The beer is gone, the pizza is gone, and sometime in the dark room, Dante's arm and moved to the back of the couch behind me.

Something's happening. It feels like months ago, where I'm having several strokes in succession and the beautiful man beside me has no idea. I'm hot under the collar, and losing all the cool I learned. Goddamnit.

The credits start rolling, and I smack him in the stomach.

"Wake up geezer, it's way past your bedtime."

I go to lift myself from the couch, but I'm stopped. The arm behind me has grabbed me around the neck, and this time I'm back months and months ago, with Dante bleeding everywhere as I help him to the couch to bandage him, and again at New Years, where he's hanging heavy off me, licking my bottom lip. Something happens and I'm pissed. I'm fucking raging. My arms flaring and tightening, and all I want to do is shake him, and yell at him, and tell him to get the fuck out of my head, to make him understand that I burn for him, that I want him, I love him more than he could ever think, to ask him why he can't love me like that to, but I don't. I freeze. I'm embarrassed.

He's staring at my Devil Bringer and it's flashing blue light, and he slowly lets his arm slide from my shoulder. I can't look at his face. I can almost taste the tension in the air.

"I've been a pretty good sport about all this, Nero."

I know exactly what he's talking about. I may have gotten better at hiding it, but Dante is an observant fucker, and I'm pretty sure I'm up shit creek without a paddle. Like that popular saying goes, I'm sweating bullets. Am I going to tell him? Nope. No chance. Abso-fucking-lutely not. I won't say anything right now, but he knows there's something I'm not telling him and I know it's only a matter of time before he confronts and forces it out of me. I'm fucking terrified.

"It's nothing I can't handle myself, old man…" _Lying. I'm lying to you._

He seems unconvinced, and I'm certain that if I keep blabbing on about it, he'll believe me even though it's painfully obvious I'm lying. My voice is high and tight, and I clear my throat about three times to get rid of the choking feeling, but it's still there. I'm glad for the dark room because my face is getting warm, and Dante is staring at me in a way that makes me want to give up and just tell him.

"Really, no worries, nothing that concerns you…" _LYING! LYING! LYING! LYING!_

"You concern me. Whatever is wrong with you concerns me, because I care about you. Now stop being an idiot and tell me what's up."

My heart stops. Ooooh my God, swooning! Swooning! I start sputtering. _No! Idiot! Stop that, now!_

All the sudden I'm standing on shaky legs, taking in shaky breaths, and saying to him and a shaky voice: "I'll tell you later."

And I'm up those damn stairs so fast, and locking my door, and curling up on my bed, trying to stop choking on air and hyperventilating at the same time, and I don't know how but I am. I'm doing it. I'm high on adrenaline, and I can barely see, THINK straight, but I'm hitting myself in the forehead, thinking _Of course he cares about you, dumbshit, you're friends! Friends! Friends say that kind of shit to friends!_

I calm down finally, and I realize that I can hear Dante snoring lightly in the room beside mine. When did he come upstairs? Friends, friends, friends, that's all we'll ever be. That's all Dante will ever want. And I'll just deal with it.

I go to bed like I always do: facing Dante's room, pressed into the wall, wondering what his face looks like when he sleeps.

We're on this mission somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and I'm currently sneaking our swords into this hotel room that Dante's booked for the night. He was adamant about me safe-guarding the swords, and because he was on his own, the lady at the front desk refused to give him a room with two beds. Goddamn idiot. I'm about to start chewing nails.

Red Queen and Rebellion are leaned up against the wall, beside a small cheap looking table where I place Blue Rose to keep Ebony and Ivory company. It's about 3 in the morning.

Dante's behind me, stripping. I can hear him take his clothes off and joke about sharing a bed.

"Sorry, but I've been told I'm a blanket-hog." He laughs.

I'm snarling on the inside, thinking about all the women that had probably told him that, and I tell him as I start to pull my own coat "don't worry about me, worry about yourself; I kick."

He groans and I laugh and I turn around to see him bent over the bed a bit; he's pulling a corner of the blanket up, and he's only wearing his boxers. I decide I want to keep my shirt and follow him into bed.

I can hear my heart in my ears, and I vague wonder if Dante can hear it too. He's half-demon, so it would make sense. The light goes off, we both move around to get comfy, and an hour later I'm still awake, watching Dante's back shift with his breathing, listening to his light snoring, and I can't help myself. I'm sure he's asleep anyways, there's no way he's waking up, the man sleeps like the dead.

I had spent the last hour on the very edge of the bed, and now I'm moving closer towards Dante. This isn't exactly new. I had, in the past, snuck into Dante's room before while he was asleep, and kissed and touched him; nothing too bad, just a peck or two on the neck, and a stroke on his arm, but this is a new ball game. I'm so close. I start to get aroused, blood starts pooling in my groin, but there's nothing I'm going to do about it right now. I'm too busy.

I'm right behind him and keeping my cool. It's funny how only a year ago, I'd be blushing and figuratively puking my guts out, but now I'm not. Now, I'm bringing my hand up and running it down his side, and back up again. I lean forward and start kissing his back, but pretty soon I'm licking him, tasting the salt on his skin. I want to press myself closer, but I don't know if I should. My hand on his side abruptly meets his hipbone, and it slides down a bit towards his groin and I stop thinking and press myself closer, my erection sliding over his ass and I moan, kissing his neck.

It takes all my willpower to pull away, and I'm a little horrified at myself for losing control like that. My cock is hot and heavy, and all I want is Dante's mouth on me, sucking me. I want to feel his tongue on my skin. But what am I going to do? Wake him up and ask for a blow-job? I don't. Of course I don't. I go to the bathroom and jack-off instead, cumming at the thought of riding him.

Lady and Trish wonder if it's painful for me, to be living here with him when I can't have him. I tell them it is. I say that I feel empty, that I hating having to hide everything. When I catch him sleeping on the couch, all I can think of is how beautiful he is, and how much I want him, and how I know I can't have him. His smile quickens my heart, and his hand through my hair is paradise, I can't get enough of it. I smile as I tell them that I instigate fights sometimes, just to hope we wrestle, and I do that because I want him to touch me. I say that I purposely lose some of our bets, because he almost always asks me to cook him breakfast, because he loves my French Toast, and I love the look on his face, his eyes closing with pleasure as he chews, moaning and praising my cooking skills. I tell them it's gotten easier to deal with, but every once in a while, seeing him stumble in from Love Planet, reeking of woman, my heart breaks and I slip into the shower to cry, letting the noise of the water drown me out.

"Why do you stay then? Why do you do this to yourself?" Lady asks me.

I blink at her. Isn't it obvious?

"I love him. I could never leave him."

We're fighting. It almost got myself killed, because I was too concerned to what Dante was doing to realize what was going on around me. In my defence, he had gone down and I couldn't see him for a split second. And in that second I was almost cleaved in half.

"What the hell were you fucking thinking!? Where was your goddamn head!?" He's screaming at me. We're back at the shop, and he's wrapping a new set of bandages around my middle. I may heal slower than Dante can, but I think I'm doing ok. A little dizzy from blood loss, my stomach's been sliced right open, so that hurts a lot, but it's fine. This is nothing compared to that one moment, that one second span in time where I thought Dante had gotten killed.

"Shut up…old man…you're too loud."

He's still yelling, and I kind of want to punch him to make him shut up. I drink some more of this whatever Dante gave me, and smack my lips. Tastes like blackberries and oil.

"What is this?"

"What?!What's what?"

He looks up from his frantic bandaging, and it almost breaks my heart. His eyes are wet.

I chuckle and put my hand on his face. "Oh, don't cry there, Dante, what'll the girls think?"

He smacks my hand away and continues wrapping me, tugging harder than necessary. It hurts, but it makes me laugh.

I ask him again what it is I'm drinking, and he mutters something about a healing potion. I wonder why it tastes like oil.

"Ok kid, enough of the bullshit."

I stand up gingerly, wrapping an arm around my stomach. "What bullshit?"

"This. This. Whatever the fuck this is. You're so fucking distracted all the time, and now you've almost gotten yourself killed. You know what I'm talking about."

I sigh. That I do…that I do. It's been 6 months since he brought it out in the open, when we watched Transformers and ate pizza and drank beer to celebrate my one year anniversary at Devil May Cry. I like to think I've matured a lot since I've been here, but now that I know that is this unavoidable, I feel that bad kind of warm, the one that tells me I'm getting nervous. My stomach catches on pretty quick and starts rolling. I look around, where are the girls?

"I sent the girls home."

Ooh, well played, my friend. Well played.

"Dante…" I say. "I told you, it's nothing I can't handle on my own."

"That's some bullshit. You think I haven't noticed?" His eyes are kinda cold. "I see that far away look in your eyes you get sometimes."

I said it before. Dante is an observant fuck. My mind is going about 40 miles a minute, trying to squeeze out of this, but nothings coming up.

"You're not homesick. You go back to visit as much as you like. It's not Kyrie, because I see the way you act around each other."

Kyrie. My sista from another mista. We're pretty tight, and she knows all about Dante. I half remember a time when she threatened to tell him how I felt, dancing out of my reach as she pressed in the numbers to Devil May Cry, me going absolutely crazy, yelling "seriously! Seriously Kyrie, not cool! Not! Cool! Give me the phone!" She didn't call him, I knew she wouldn't, but she teased me a lot about it. "Nero, you face powerful demons capable of splitting your stupid head in half, and you're afraid of a phone call?"

Dante's hand on my shoulder jerks me out of my thoughts, and he's asking me again what's the matter with me.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"That's bullshit."

"No it isn't."

"You're fucking lying to me."

"I'm not."

"Nero!"

"Dante?"

And now he's got me by the collar of my hoodie and he's shaking me. "You almost got killed today, you dumb bastard!"

Oh, right. I did. And now who's shaking me? Seriously, it hurts.

Dante's not stopping. I can feel his eyes on me, but I'm looking at my feet, and he's saying something about how he can't help me if he doesn't know what's wrong. Why can't I tell him? Why can't I fucking tell him?

"Why can't you fucking tell me!?"

My arm starts flaring, and I'm pissed again. My falling in love with him has nothing to do with him, because nothing can ever happen between us… nothing I'd like anyways. Trish had asked me a long time ago if it was purely physical. I thought it was a stupid question to ask. If it was purely physical, I would've just told them I wanted to fuck him, and to have him fuck me. But I didn't say that. I said I loved him, because I do. I fucking love Dante, and it's none of his goddamn business.

"It's none of your goddamn business!"

My arm's pulsing and bright, and I'm trying to fight Dante off but he's older and stronger, and has at least 50 pounds on me. My hands grab at his jacket to try and push him away because it's getting hard to breath. He's right in my face, yelling at me.

"It is my business! You're my friend, asshole, you're happiness is my business, goddamn you…"

He's got me against the wall, and it doesn't hurt but I'm crying. It's New Years again, and that knife is twisting in me. Friend, friend, friend, that's all I'll ever be. My grip on his jacket is weakening, and my hands are sliding down the leather. Fuck. Fuck my life. I'm breaking down.

He stops shaking me. He stops yelling. I feel his hand under my chin, and he's lifting my head up. I don't want to look at him, but I do; his eyes lock onto mine, and I can't pull myself away. He's burning a hole through me, and he looks so fucking hurt I almost can't stand it. My stomach is rolling so terribly, my heart's pounding. My throat has already closed up the way it does when you cry, and it hurts to swallow. I'm vaguely aware that I'm making some weird whining sound, but I'm too fucking upset to even care about anything right now, Goddamnit, this is it.

"Nero…please…"

I'm shaking my head 'no', and his arms are trying to wrap around me, but I won't let him. I can't let him.

He has other ideas though. My body is shaking, because I'm not letting myself cry, and he's running a soothing hand through my hair. An arm finds its way around my waist and the hand in my hair pushes my face into his shoulder. He's holding me, and it's so fucking wonderful and hurts so goddamn much I can't decide if I want to smile or scream.

His hand is rubbing my back, soothing me, calming me down and by some miracle I stop shaking. He pulls away from me a bit (I'm sad for the loss of heat) and wipes the tears from my cheeks. I feel like the world's biggest pussy. Maybe I am.

"You alright?"

I shake my head no. No. Not really. I'm about to tell him something that may potentially rip us apart, and it scares the shit out of me.

"You gonna tell me?"

I shake my head no again, and all at once I'm pissed off and he's pissed off because I'm pissed off and we're yelling at each other.

"What's the big fucking deal?!"

"I'm not fucking telling you! I don't want to fucking tell you! Let me go…"

"Piss off! You said you would…"

"Like hell I did!"

Both our hands are grasping each other's jackets, and I'm praying for a fucking sign, something, anything, either telling me to walk away, or telling me to man-up and spill the beans. I want a fucking opening, because he's right. As much as I hate it, he's right when he yells at me that this has been going on for too goddamn long, and that it is his business.

"I'm not fucking playing this game with you, kid! Tell me!"

"No!"

"Why the fuck not!?"

"I don't want to lose you!"

Ooh…that wasn't what I wanted to say. Here it is, ladies and gentlemen. It's started. He loosens his grip on my jacket and looking at me with this weird face. He's confused.

"Lose me? ...why would you lose me? What does that mean?"

"…shit." I hang my head.

"Nero?"

He's so close that I can lean forward to rest my forehead of his chest, and I do. I do it because I'm about to tell him that I'm completely nuts over him, and this might be the last fucking time I ever feel his warmth again. I'm about to hug him, to memorize the feel of him, and then there it is. My opening. My door.

"Look, kid…if you can't tell me, can you show me?"

I freeze. Something this obvious is a huge glaring 'GO' in my mind, so I swallow through a throat that feels about 8 times too small and let my hands, who seemed to have grown minds of their own, do whatever they please. They're running over his chest, and I almost wish they weren't; Dante's body is hard, solid, he's built like a fucking tank and it's sexy. I hate it because now that I'm touching him so incredibly intimately, I know it'll be the last time he'll ever want to be within 5 miles of me. I feel the fingers of my Devil Bringer reach up and twist into his hair; bastards been using my conditioner again, but that's the least of my worries because there's absolutely no way that could've been misinterpreted, and no way unclear in my intentions.

I manage to tear my eyes from my shoes and look to read his expression. I can't. Well, maybe. He looks a little confused, but not freaked out. He wants to see what I'm going to do next. This is it.

My heart's trying to fling itself through my chest, and I'm blushing so much, and I know Dante can see it, but I don't stop my hand, my human hand, that has started sliding slowly, lovingly, up his neck. My fingers play lightly over his ear, and I cup his jaw, and now I actually am having a stroke. My thumb is brushing his cheek, and with my Devil Bringer, I bring his face close to mine, and our noses touch. We're breathing the same air.

I feel a strange calm, the same kind of calm I expect one would feel right before they realize they're about to die. Maybe I'm being melodramatic. This is really happening, isn't it? Oh God, oh God…

My eyes close themselves and my head tilts and then we're kissing. Really. His lips are warm and dry and they fit against my mouth so perfectly. And suddenly everything's better. My pounding heart is still going, but it's not in my ears anymore… it doesn't feel like it's going to pop out of my chest. That gooey good kind of warmth has settled in my stomach, my tense throat and neck relax. I want to get closer, but I know I shouldn't so I don't.

I pull back, brush my lips over his, then kiss him again, my mouth open a little wider, pressing a little harder. He's not kissing back, like I knew he wouldn't. Maybe he's having a stroke of his own.

He feels so good and warm and _right. _I want to go deeper, to taste his mouth, but I don't. I pull away, and open my eyes. He's staring at me, stupefied. He didn't close his eyes neither; I didn't expect him to.

I'm still holding his face, and our noses are touching and I say "did you get that? Or do I have to do it again?"

He says nothing, and my hands loosen and fall, brushing against his chest before they hang at my sides. The kiss was warm and it felt so good, but now I'm cold. Dante's not saying anything so I leave. I feel detached, like I'm watching everything happen through a long tunnel. I see myself brush past him. I see myself pick up my coat from the couch. I see myself open the door, and leave. I think I hear him call my name, but I don't turn around. How can I?

I wandered in the rain for at least a half hour. How fitting; it's pouring outside on the day the love of my life breaks my heart. I don't really have a destination. I know I'm just wandering around, by myself, in the rain like a crazy person, and I'm still feeling like complete shit. I don't know what time it is, or how it happens, but I'm looking up at a familiar apartment building and realize my feet have brought me to Trish's house.

I stand there for God knows how long, trying to decide what to do when Trish beats me to it. She must've seen me out her window, because all the sudden the door is opening, and through the gloom I can hear her tired voice.

"Nero? Is that you?"

I'm freezing by this point, and we're friends, so I make my way over and try to say something to her, a 'hi', or a 'yeah, it's me', but I can't. The words won't come out. I start feeling hot, and I started sputtering a bit, and I notice Lady's face hovering over Trish's shoulder. I guess they were having a sleep over.

"Holy Christ, kid, you're soaked! What are you doing? You alright?"

I choke, and I'm crying again. Oh, wow, I've fucked up. Really. I've really fucked up everything. I can't believe it. Why? Why'd I do that?!

"…no. No I'm not…"

Women are scary sometimes. They're scary because a week out of the month, they are 8 times more liable to take your head off for any reason, and because they seem to have eyes at the back of their head, and they always seem to know things they really have no business of knowing.

This is no exception. I'm shuffling over to them, my palm over my face and they know what's happened. I feel Trish's hand on my shoulder, and Lady's soothing words, and then I'm brought upstairs, where they make me some coffee to warm up and give me a girly robe to wear while my clothes dry in the dryer. I pluck the fleecy fabric around my waist; it's pink, and it comes up to the middle of my thigh. If I ever had any doubts I was gay before, this robe and the fact I'm wearing it would clear everything right up.

We all talk. I tell them what I did, what he did, and what I plan to do now. I'm going back to Fortuna. I've ruined everything.

"You haven't ruined everything. He was just shocked, you just need to go talk to him." says Lady.

I think I'd rather stab myself in the eye. I think a little harder and tell her just that.

"You're over-reacting." Trish says to me. She passes the Ben and Jerry's back to me, and focuses on the movie. Bridget Jones's Diary. I was right, they were having a sleep-over, and now I am too. We're watching a chick-flic, eating ice cream because I've ruined my love life forever, and we're all wearing these really cute little girly robes. I start stuffing myself with the ice cream. I deserve it, Goddamnit, but if one of them brings out the nail polish I'm sooooo out of here.

"I'm not."

"You are." She says. "and you're assuming too much."

I notice they aren't treating me like they would a woman friend of theirs, and I am so grateful I could kiss the both of them.

I might've been there for an hour when the buzzer rings. Lady is putting some new bandages on me, and Trish answers the buzzer and I'm freaking out. It's nearly 2 in the morning. Who else could it be?

"Trish? Trish! Listen…"

"Dante, it's two in the goddamn morning, what the hell do you want?!"

I'm giving her the hugest puppy-dog eyes I can muster, but she's not going to lie and tell him I'm not here. It would just worry him.

"I…I'm looking for Nero."

"Why?"

"What?"

She huffs. "I said 'why'. Why are you looking for him?"

"He…well, he's not at the shop…"

"So?"

Lady's fighting down a laugh, but I still feel miserable. Trish is good at harassing Dante, and usually it's as funny as hell, but I'm not smiling. My mouth is dry and just hearing his voice is making me hurt.

"W-well…"

"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself. This isn't the first time he's been away Dante, I don't understand why you're feeling so paternal."

"I'm not feeling…paternal, damnit, I'm-"

"Oh, so you care about him in a different way then?"

I freeze. What the hell is she doing?!

"What the hell are you doing?!" I hiss quietly. She waves her hand at me, dismissing me. Dante's not saying anything, but he's sputtering a lot. I wonder what his problem is, and why he isn't denying Trish's blatant insinuation. I try to fight it, but there's this annoying tiny little flutter of something that may or may not be hope crawling up my chest. It's a slippery bastard and I can't seem to shake the little fire of warmth it's started in my gut.

Trish plays her cards well. "Or maybe you want him to make you breakfast in morning?"

That seems to shake him out of it, and he's almost snarls at her. "Goddamnit woman, either say you'll help me look for him or say you won't, I don't have time to fuck around with you and you're bullshit, alright?"

Trish smiles at me and Lady shakes my shoulder, letting me know she's done wrapping me up.

"Don't worry about the kid, Dante, he's here with us."

"Huh?"

"Huh what? I said he's with us, he's safe. He's right you know, you are an old man. That's the second time I've had to repeat myself."

Lady's almost losing it. Her hand is covering her mouth, but she's doing a miserable job covering up her laughter.

"He's…there?"

"Yes Dante, he's here." She rolls her eyes and sighs like he's the biggest idiot on the planet. "I've only said it three times."

"…"

He says nothing, but you can hear his worry and embarrassment in his silence. Ooh, we got him, hehehe.

Trish raises a finger to her lips; she's telling me to keep quiet. "Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"…where is he?"

"Sleeping. Said he was a little dizzy. Don't worry, we bandaged him up again, he's fine. Just needs some down time."

"…oh."

What the hell is going on? Why didn't he say something when Trish nailed him for caring in a not-do-paternal way? I'm on the edge of my fucking seat. Oh. My. God.

"Is there anything you want me to tell him, Dante?"

He's quiet. I can hear the rain coming down still, through the buzzer, and he may or may not be shifting from one foot to the other.

"Uh…yeah. Could you tell him that…that I'm looking for him? And that I want him to come home…I need to talk to him…"

Trish has this huge smile on her face and she's giving me this 'I told you so' look. I can't fucking believe it. He wants to talk? He can still stand the thought of me? I'm pretty sure I have the world biggest idiot grin on my face.

"Come home? Isn't Fortuna his home?"

Dante's hesitation is palatable. If I was asleep right now and not hearing all this, Trish would be the one spilling everything he said the minute I woke up, and Dante knows this. So he's choosing his words carefully. He takes a sharp breath in, then pauses, then continues.

"Not anymore."

I crash on Trish's coat, thinking about Dante and his lips, and his chest that I had shamelessly molested. It had felt so hard. I've seen Dante without a shirt on several times before, and I know he's cut, but feeling him didn't even compare to the visual. His lips were so warm. I wanted to go a little further, but I knew there was a limit that I didn't want to cross; no matter how I wanted to taste his mouth, I figured Dante would most likely snap out of it and hit me if I ever gave him the tongue. I think a little harder; I might be regretting that. Maybe it would've been worth it. I wonder what he would taste like? Pizza, most likely; maybe the stale tang of old beer, and his hands would be a little rough, but not too rough, and they'd be warm. I imagine how they would feel on my skin, my chest and ribs. My human arm slides up beneath my shirt and I touch myself, thinking of Dante's thick fingers pinching my nipples, and thread the fingers of my other hand under the waistband of my boxers and through my hair.

I feel half bad for doing this on Trish's couch, for God's sake, but I can't really stop myself now. I grab my hot erection and sigh, stroking it, licking my fingers to rub over the head, and soon my hips are jerking and I'm panting, and I leave the couch to go finish up in the bathroom so I don't make a mess anywhere.

I don't go back for another three days. So he's not mad. I was ecstatic to hear that hesitation in his voice, and to feel that slight curl of hope in my stomach, but that doesn't change the fact that I confessed to him, and that doesn't change the fact that he knows, and I'm probably just reading into it too much, and he probably only likes me as a friend, and all that BS. It still kills, but at least I know he's not gonna punch me out the next time I see him.

Or maybe he will.

Maybe he's just…pretending not to be mad, so I won't suspect. Either way, I'm not going down without a fucking fight, be it fists or wits, there's no way I'm going to be walked on.

I ponder that on the way back to the shop, mostly just to keep myself distracted from my inevitable meet with him…or maybe I'm trying to psych myself up, so that the big epic fail I'm about to experience will sting a little less.

Trish and Lady finally kicked me out, literally. They had buzzed me upstairs, feigning helplessness with several grocery bags, and me being the gentleman I am, I had gone down to bring them up for them. I'm such a sucker. They were both hiding beside the stairs, and when I opened the door, they both kicked my ass so hard I was airborne for about five seconds.

"What the hell's the deal?!"

They closed the door and locked it, and told me they're going phone Dante to say that I'll be over in 20 minutes, and if I'm not, that he's to come look for me. Some fucking friends I have.

"Good luck!" they both yelled after me. I was contemplating tearing the door down with my Devil Bringer, but I don't. Instead I started walking and now here I am. In front of the shop, wishing for a goddamn flash flood, or a fire, or some fucking thing to save me from imminent doom, but that's never going to happen, because the door suddenly crashes open and there's Dante, all decked out in his red leather. I suddenly realize that I missed him. God, did I ever miss him.

"Nero."

"Hey, Dante." I sound a lot braver than I feel, and I can't really understand why, but I'm running with it. I am Zen Master. Calm. Steady. Maybe if I can fake it, it won't be so painfully obvious how much I just wanna die right now.

He looks nervous, and it makes me feel both better and worse. I'm not the only one who feels awkward as ass, but at the same time, he's older! He's not the one who has it bad, I do! Why does he look so weird?

He brings up his left arm and scratches the back of his neck. "Heard you've been staying with the girl the past few days."

I'm nodding. Man this feels weird. "Yeah, I was…" I had the sudden urge to lie and try and convince him that I had perfectly legitimate reason for staying there…like I was helping renovate the entire house in less than a week, or there was some crisis that only I could know of and fix. That's not going to fly though.

"I heard you wanted to talk to me."

He seems to be on the same page and he hesitates before saying 'yeah, c'mere' and turning around to go back inside. I follow him in, and see him crouched by the mini fridge, getting us a few beer. This is good. If it gets too painful, all I need to do is feed myself more and more alcohol, and it'll all come out, no worries. I move over to the couch, and his voice stops me.

"Here, can we go upstairs?

I stop. Upstairs. Upstairs? No, we can't go upstairs, because there's nothing to go upstairs to. There's my room, which has a bed and a dresser. No couch, no table, and his room, that also has a bed (a king sized one) and a few dressers, but no table or chairs, no couch, nothing, no neutral zone at all. I'm confused. Where are we going to sit? He wants to talk, and who talks standing up? If we are going to talk, we wouldn't do it on the floor, would we?

"Yeah…yeah, ok."

I walk towards him and I'm blushing. I'm feeling a nervous tension, and he hands me my beer but I don't look at him. He turns and I follow him up the stairs. He's not wearing his jacket, and so I freely stare at his ass, like I have a million times before. I wanna reach out and taste it, and touch it, and I'm feeling a little surreal because it still hasn't hit me that he's not angry, or disgusted with me. I don't really know what else to think, nothing else seems to make any sense.

We reach the hall, and I'm not surprised to see the lack of sitting-and-talking furniture. I'm just about to say something when he walks all the way to the end, past my door, past the closet and moves into his own room.

I'm afraid to breath. And move. The bedroom isn't exactly neutral territory last I checked. I feel about a million times more uncomfortable than I did before.

He pokes his head out, and our eyes meet. He's dead serious on this, isn't he?

"Are you going to come in?"

His eyes hold mine, and he does that thing he does so well, that one where he can just look at me and I'll do whatever he wants. I can't really move my jaw right now; it's too clenched up, but my neck is still movable so I nod.

Nothing in his room to sit down either, just like I thought. He walks over and does the whole 'I present to you!' hand gesture to his bed. Are you serious? Apparently he is, because he flops down and gives me an expectant look, and I lift my feet which seem to weigh about a thousand pounds and seat myself the farthest possible distance from him while still on the same piece of furniture. He looks like he wants to laugh, but doesn't.

"So…" I say. Better now or never.

"So."

"You wanted to talk?"

"Why did you kiss me?"

Oh, straight to business, I see. I'm determined not to make an ass of myself. I promised the girls, Kyrie, myself, that I would take this like a man and not puss out. It's like golf. Follow through. You need to follow through. I stirred the effing pot, now I have to deal with the consequences of my actions. Cause and effect. I hate my life so much right now.

"Hmm…maybe I was hungry."

That's not the answer he was looking for, but if he's getting anything out of me, he's gonna have to earn it, damnit.

"Don't give me that bullshit."

"My lips were chapped. Needed some moisture."

"Nero, don't fuck with me." He's holding his beer pretty tight, and I'm expecting it to break in his hand. I take a swig of my beer and lick my lips. I'm feeling the bad kind of warm, but I think I still have a chance.

"I'm not fucking with you. I don't like dry lips. They split too easy."

He's not happy. He's sneering and staring off into his closet, and I think I might've underestimated him. Dante can be pretty damn patient, but I'm getting some serious vibes right now that are telling me that he doesn't want to fuck around right now. He puts down his beer and it clanks against the wood floor hard.

"You wanna be a punk about this, huh? I can play that too."

I put my beer down quickly, because he's crawling on the bed over to me, and I think he's going to start a fight. I clench my jaw and bring my hands up to block, because he always takes the first punch. I'm ready for him, but all he does is bring up his hands slowly to hold my wrists and pull down my arms. What is he doing?

He's no coward, so he's not pulling down my hands to get a sucker-punch in. He comes closer and closer, and then he's fucking swinging a leg over mine to straddle my thighs.

"Dude, the fuck're you-"

I don't get much else out after that. His hands come up to cup my jaw and he slides up so he's sitting in my fucking lap, for God's sake. His eyes are calm, and that is the complete opposite of what I'm feeling. I'm afraid my head might just blow up any second. Dante seems to have that effect on me. He leans forward and rubs his nose against mine. Is this actually happening?

"Why did you kiss me?"

I don't know if I understand the question. I don't know if I understand anything right now, which makes sense because my mind's been officially blown. My arms seemed to have gone AWOL and I'm thinking I need them because somewhere, deep inside my head, someone is telling me that I need to be careful because he's probably playing me. I can feel his breath on my lips. Glad he can breathe so well. Glad he's getting his daily intake of oxygen. I'm not. That's why I can't fucking think. My throat feels roughly the width of a friggin straw.

"Nero." His breath on my face, and his lips so close I feel them brush against mine. "Why did you kiss me?"

Why'd I kiss him? Was that it? It should be more like 'why am I not kissing him right now?' An eternity seems to pass, and the heat from his lap is starting to seep through my jeans, and thank God that voice in my head gets a little sharper. I'm playing right into his hand, and that needs to stop, right about now.

I found my arms. They were right beside me all along, and I push Dante down against the bed and crawl on top of him.

"Hey!"

I'm smirking. "Dante, Dante, Dante…don't you know it's bad to lure young people into your bedroom? Especially when you've given them alcohol." I'm feeling a little more in control. It feels good. "And here I thought you were such a decent guy."

This man doesn't enjoy being toyed with, and it's never been more apparently than it is now. My hands are on his wrists, and I'm holding him down, but I know it's just a matter of time before he actually does throw me off.

He stops struggling after a short while and looks up at me seriously.

I match his stare. "You wanted to know what was wrong, and I showed you."

He doesn't say anything, but he licks his lips and my eyes flicker to watch his tongue dart out again. After a moment, he smiled like he's thought of something clever. "I'm afraid it was a little too vague for me. Maybe you could show me again? Make it a little more clear?"

I'm seeing red. He's making fun of all this, this being the most painful ordeal I've ever had to go through, and my Devil Bringer starts lighting up. He sees it and promptly flips us both over, onto the floor before I can do anything.

"Chill, kid."

"Let me up, you fucker!"

"Not till you tell me exactly what you meant when you kissed me."

"Are you that dumb?!"

"You don't have to be insulting, you know. I just want to be clear."

"Why?! Goddamn you…"

We're rolling around on the floor, fighting, punching and pinching each other, and he happens to get me in the stomach, right over my very recently healed gash. I hurts.

I groan and move my arms down, holding my stomach. Dante stops and moves off me, and then he's pulling my shirt up.

"The hell are you doing, perv!?" I try and push him away, but he's not budging. Shit. My shirts up, and he's running a hand over my stomach, and his hand is hot and I start trembling. He's feeling the skin carefully, soothing and testing it.

"Hey…" I swallow. "…hey, c'mon…stop that…"

I don't want him to stop, of course. It feels good. I want to arch my back and lean into him, I want to feel both his hands on me, but he's only using one. His other one is resting against my bare chest...

"No problems with this?" He asks. He looks at me and I'm laughing on this inside. What a ridiculous position we're in! I'm on my back, my shirt hiked to my shoulder, and Dante is hunched over me, feeling me up. Wow.

I shake my head no. I can feel the roughness of my palms and I'm feeling very sexy right now. I chance a look at his face and he's staring down at my stomach, his eyes roaming across my skin. It's out. He knows it, he has to. With me letting him touch me like he is, he must have an idea. His fingers start threading through the trail of hair beneath my navel and I think he might be coming onto me. Jesus Christ. What is he doing? Why's he doing that?

I don't ask because I'm being distracted. His fingers trail lower to the waistband of my pants, and the hand on my chest is sliding up my neck and over my jaw, and now he's running a thumb over my lips. Holy God. My back arches and I sigh and I want to draw his thumb into my mouth to suck it. Getting laid is suddenly number one on my priority list.

"Maybe I was asking the wrong question." He says. His hand moves and then his fingers are threading through my hair. I close my eyes and sigh. I have an idea of what he's going to say, and to be honest I don't want to be looking at him when he says it.

"Nero…"

"Hm…"

"Do you love me?"

Everything in my body seems to plummet, but I refuse to be a woman about this. "…I do."

I finally open my eyes when I hear his clothing rustle. I see him leaning down towards my face and I can feel myself turning red. The hand in my hair comes down, and then he's running his fingers along my lips.

"What are you doing?" I say.

"Just showing you how I feel." He smiles. He leans down some and kisses my forehead, brushes his nose against mine, and then kisses me on the lips. I kiss him back.

"You're pretty red there, kid."

"Fuck you old man."

"Mm…later, later."

I'm laugh and he's pulling me up to his mouth, and then he's pulling me onto his bed, and I can't believe it.

* * *

We've been officially a couple for 8 months, and it's goddamn amazing. Dante confessed that he's felt strongly for me for quite some time, but never made a move because I always call him old man, and I was young, so I'd probably only want a young boyfriend, and God, he didn't even think I was gay. I almost didn't believe him when he told me this, but it makes sense; Dante's so friggin macho I had probably faked some overly straight behaviour in the past to make sure he didn't think of me a pansy.

I was a little apprehensive about the whole thing though. Considering Dante's personality, I assumed he would want to top exclusively, which I had a problem with. I want him to fuck me, yes, but I didn't really want to be considered the bitch of the relationship. I didn't feel that I needed the kind of stereotype that said I was a needy, passive, eager-to-please wussy man while he was the big, strong, male dominator who took care of me. Fuck that. I say FUCK. THAT.

I was surprised to find that Dante had no problems with that. He liked me, so he didn't really want to put me in that position, but he was still nervous our first time. I had already been with a few men before him, and after his initial 'choke-on-my-drink' moment, we (I) came to the decision that it would be more comfortable for both of us to let me top the first time considering he was still virgin-ass.

It was hilarious. He didn't seem to want to accept the fact that when it came to men, I WAS smoother, cooler, and more knowledgeable than he was, and it drove him crazy. He kept asking me things like "are you sure you know what you're doing?", "it's not going to hurt, is it?", and the more hysterical sounding "what's that?! Stop! What IS that?!", and "aaaah, what the hell are you doing?!". Oh, I laughed! Then I gave it to him, and he stopped talking. Well, stopped talking in words, anyways. There was still noise coming out of his mouth but I'm pretty sure you won't find 'aaaaaooohhhhaaahaaaa-aaahhh' in the dictionary. I blew his fucking mind, I'll tell you…and he was sure to tell me afterwards, as he ran his hands through my hair and I sucked lazily on his throat, that I was the sauciest little minx he'd ever had the pleasure to lay his hands on. Talk about your warm-and-bubbly feeling.

It's probably 2 in the morning, and we're spooning in bed. Sex tonight was, like always, amazing. He topped, and we did it missionary position, so we could look at each other. It was great. He kept giving me these slow, wet kisses that tasted like sugar, and he didn't fuck me rough, like he would normally (I might be a bit of a masochist). Instead, we did it slow and steady, but hard. I know I was louder than usual; I don't care because he wasn't being himself either.

He was surprisingly gentle afterwards, cleaning the both of us off with slow strokes and a towel. He sucked on my neck and ear the entire time, and by the time he was done I was hard and ready to go again. He only smiled and cupped my ass and pressed himself closer to me.

I can't really sleep right now. His hot breath against my neck has only a little to do with it.

In the beginning, things were kinda strange. We still fought and argued a lot, and he kept calling me kid and I still kept calling him old man, and he was always a little awkward because he wasn't sure about how to act around a boyfriend. He was pretty clueless about everything…and actually really insulting. I remember I had this rough day because some asshole kept giving me shit and kept trying to tell me how to do my job. I got home to Devil May Cry, let everyone know I was pissed at life, and here comes this dumb fucker Dante, giving me a bar of chocolate.

"…what the hell is this?" I had asked him.

He looked a little confused. "…it's chocolate."

"Why the hell do I want chocolate?"

He looked like a school kid at the front of the classroom who knows he has the wrong answer, but can't think of anything else to say. "…it'll make you feel better?"

Of course, I realized in a split second that this _chocolate _was a complete insult to my masculinity; women eat chocolate when they're pissed, and men destroy things. I roughed him up quite a bit; Dante's strong, but it's not like he wanted to hurt me or anything. I got through to him at least. He started treating me like a man, so I considered my beating him senseless in front of his co-workers (Trish and Lady) a success. That night, I melted that chocolate, tied him to the bed, and teased the shit out of him until he begged me to fuck him. Ooh, that was the sweetest victory…no pun intended.

Things got easier after. He fell into the right kind of groove, and I mercilessly took advantage of the fact that he was the jealous-protective type. At the bar, I'd be friendly with the men we met, and Dante, believing I was just being naïve and trying to make friends, would quickly establish that I was his boyfriend (by sticking his tongue down my throat while groping my ass), and then take me home where he would give me the most amazing sex, like he was making sure I would know what I was missing if I were ever to leave him. I was doing that for a good few months before he smartened up. He called me a sneaky bastard, then a naughty boy, then proceeded to teach me a lesson. It hurt, but in a good way.

We're both getting more serious with each other, and it's a little scary. Dante told me his past, told me about his brother, his mother, his dad, his upbringing, and I've told him things about my past I've never told anyone before. I told him about my mom, and only Kyrie knows about my mom. I told him how I got these scars on my back, why I can never look down from a high ledge, and why I wake up rigid and sweating some nights. I used to hate those nights, but Dante always wakes up with me, and when that happens, he pushes my head to his chest and talks to me in this soft tone because he knows how easily I calm down to that smooth baritone of his voice. I've never been in this deep with someone before, and it's both scary and exhilarating. Like sky-diving, although I'm less likely to die, I think.

It's not only what he tells me that makes me think we're getting deeper. He's acting different too, just the little things. He picks up my favourite pasta from this Italian place when he knows I'm going to be late coming home. He leaves it in the fridge with a little heart drawn on the plastic lid. He actually _seduced _me a little while ago. I came home, and he was lounging around with only these leather pants on, being all sexy, and after he was sure I was happy and full of food (that he had cooked himself, no less), he brought me upstairs, pulled off my clothes, made nice hot shower for us, then threw me over his shoulder and brought me to his room, where he did a strip-tease and then fucked the wits out of me. Man it was good.

And now tonight! He was gentle, and it was intense, man, there was a lot of emotion tonight. He's usually into fast rough sex, then a shower, then sleep, but he took it slow tonight, and cleaned me off. If I knew any better, I might say that he made love to me, but I don't know if that's just wishful thinking.

"Can't sleep?"

I'm not surprised he's awake. He's half demon, so he's really in tune with everything around him, even more so than I am.

"No."

"It's not me, is it?"

"No."

"Good." He stretches out a bit then snuggles a little closer into my neck. I bring his hand to my mouth and start kissing his fingers.

"Did I wake you up?" I ask him.

"Yeah. I can nearly hear you thinking kid."

I bite his fingers playfully and he chuckles.

"What're you thinking about so much?"

He starts kissing my neck, moving down to my shoulder.

"Just…I dunno…" I don't want to lie, but I don't want to sound like a girl either. "Thinkin' about us…"

The hand I was holding slips out of my grip and starts running up and down my side. I feel him squeeze my hipbone and I arch my back into him, encouraging his exploration.

"Anything in particular?"

"You seem different tonight."

He stops, and I'm worried that I might've said the wrong thing.

"Is it bad?"

"No! No, not at all." I roll over onto my back so I can touch him. "I'm just curious to know the reason."

He's running his hand over my abs now, and he leans down to kiss and lick at my chest. My own hand comes up to his face, and I slide my thumb into his mouth. He sucks and bites at it, and I'm panting before I bring it out and use it to stroke and pinch one of his hard nipples.

"Well…" he says through a sigh. "feelings change during relationships…"

I smile. "You better not be telling me you're thinking I'm a woman again."

"No…where'd you figure that?"

One great thing about Dante? He's REALLY sensitive when he's sleepy. I haven't the faintest idea why, and neither does he, but if I'm horny and he's dead tired, I can guarantee I'll be getting laid. It's stupid how simple it is, and terrible for him that he has such a weakness.

I lean over and start tonguing his nipple and he lets out this sexy little moan. "Well, you were just being real gentle and attentive…like you would a woman. Don't you think?"

He's panting and pulling me on top of him, and I swing my leg over to straddle his sexy body. But I'm interested in this conversation, so I just lean down on top of him, nose to nose.

He cups my ass and kneads it. "Mmmm…you're no woman, babe."

"Damn rights."

He smiles and plays with my hair. I'm waiting for him to keep going, but he seems a little hesitant. I give him a kiss for encouragement, and say "oh, and what about you and you're sexy leather pants that one day? You cooked, you cleaned up, you scrubbed me down in the shower and then you fucked my brains out. What was that?"

He smiles even wider. "You liked that, huh?"

"Mmm…loved it…" I kiss him and pretty soon we're making out, and his hand is slipping down the crack of my ass and he starts stroking my hole. I push back against his fingers, but he only massages me, and teases me.

I'm getting impatient, and he's hard, so I push his hand away and prop myself up. I grab his thick cock and he doesn't know what hits him as I slide down on him.

"J-Jesus Christ…fuck, Nero, ever heard of foreplay?!" Is he dumb? I'm twenty, and I want sex, now. Besides, we've only finished fucking a few hours ago, that can count as foreplay.

It doesn't hurt anymore, and especially not now because he had already tonight, but he's still hot and thick and he's filling me up and I'm practically purring. I want it fast and hard, and I get my way for a little while. I watched the lust and pleasure flicker over his face, I listened to him pant and moan but now his hands are on my hips, stilling them, and then they move to my shoulders, and then he's sitting up and pushing me back to lay on the bed. He's still smiling as he crawls on top of me, and I make of face as I feel him slide out of me.

"Hey…I wasn't done with that."

He laughs. It's a low, sensual sound and I feel shivers. I'm ready for him, I want to feel it in the morning. I don't care what anyone says, pain is hot.

I spread my legs wide for him, licking my lips. Saucy little minx indeed. I'm impatient and I let him know it; I moan and squirm and arch my back, and he's moving my legs around his waist.

"Mmmm…you gonna make it hurt baby?"

He shakes his head. "Nah…"

I'm a little disappointed. I pull a pouty face, which I know drives him crazy. "You haven't fucked me hard for a while."

He drops his shoulders. "The hell are you talking about? I fucked you till you couldn't walk, and that was only last week! Remember how much shit you gave me?" He's running his hands up and down my thighs and making himself comfy.

I smile. "Too long, too long! Now c'mon…show me a good time."

"Not on your life, you psycho."

He leans down, cups my cheek, and starts sliding into me, but he's not breaking eye contact. I'm a little alarmed. He likes to watch himself slide into me when he's on top, or he closes his eyes or kiss me. This is the first he's ever done this and I feel a little overwhelmed. I want to close my own eyes but I don't; I'm curious of what he's going to do.

I expect him to start then shut his eyes or watching my hips in time with his, but he doesn't take his eyes off me. He's pulling out, then pushing back into me, and he's still watching me, and I start feeling a lot hotter than was half a second ago. I take in a shuddering breath because it's suddenly a little harder to breath, and he smiles this soft smile like he wants to tell me something. The hand on my cheek moves into my hair, and his other hand is curling around my shoulder to bring our lips together. He kisses me slowly and wetly, rocking against me, and it's the most incredible feeling. He's panting against my mouth and the heat from our breath mixes. This singular moment in time is so intimate it almost hurts, and he's still smiling like he was and rubbing his nose to mine. I'm closing my eyes because I feel like I'm going crazy, but he says 'c'mon, hey' and strokes my cheek so I open them back up.

He's still staring at me and I'm getting louder, and he's echoes every one of my moans with a growl of his own.

"…ah…Nero?"

"…mmm…"

"…baby?…"

"What? What is it?"

He smiles and moves his head to lay thick wet kisses on my neck. "…can you tell me…mmm…how you feel about me?"

"…huh?"

He's slowing down, but doing that thing where he's still pushing hard into me and it burns in the most delicious way, and I almost completely disregard his question until I realize what he's asking.

"What…what do you…mean?" I think I know what he's talking about, but I hope I'm wrong. Why the hell is he asking something like this?! I'm staring at him now because I'm not sure what to think.

He looks embarrassed. "Come on…don't look at me like that…"

"Why?"

"…cause it's making me feel awkward."

"Tch…" I grab his shoulders to stop him.

"What?"

"No, not that…" I pull myself up and prop myself on my elbows so I can look at him straight in the eyes. I'm kind of blown away. He actually looks like he's blushing. "Why do you want me to tell you that?"

He looks like he's pouting and pushes me back down onto the bed. "Maybe I just…wanna hear it."

"…you just want to _hear _it? Now who's the woman?"

He sneers and thrusts into me sharply, and he's pounding me a little harder for the woman joke, but I don't mind. I'm smiling and arching into him. He's watching me carefully, so I bring my Devil Bringer to the back of his head and press him into my neck.

For some stupid reason, I'm feeling nervous, but suck on his earlobe, feeling him tremble.

"…I love you, Dante."

He moans and holds me tight, then his mouth is on mine and he's kissing me in this desperate, frantic way, and he looks at me, smiling this big, stupid grin, and says against my lips "I love you too, Nero."

My heart leaps. Game, set, match, check, check, and check…life fucking rules.

THE FUCKING END FINALLY HFAOAAHHAPOJ OEIHJTPOIUTH


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